


A buried soul

by Stickywhiskers



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/M, Self-Hatred, Sexual Assault, Social Isolation, Tenten looking for love in all the wrong places, potential infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22908514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stickywhiskers/pseuds/Stickywhiskers
Summary: To be a ninja is to be alone. Nothing to lose, nothing to gain, Tenten suspects she is becoming the worst version of herself.And Sasuke, well, he is forever starving.
Relationships: Hyuuga Neji/Tenten, Tenten/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	1. Awakening

Tenten wasn’t stupid, she had known that at any minute all this could be over, her light snuffed out like a weary candle flame. The future was a force to be reckoned with after-all. She was always good at making predictions, always too close to the truth for it to be a fluke, but wrong in some fundamental way.

She just didn’t have his insight.

She knew the moment the veins around his eyes melted into smooth ivory skin, and the brand sealing his brow faded to finally declare him free, her luck had finally run out.

Well, she’d thought they would have more time.

And then come the babies, and the marriages, the next generation of killers welling up beneath her feet, and it’s all she can do to duck into the nearest store to keep from bumping into that precious daughter that might have been her niece in another life.

So like a good shinobi she travels by rooftop, and spends her evenings off reclining on her fire-escape, sipping beers and watching the orange sky over Kanoha, counting birds like he used to, (pretty sure they’re mocking her), and envisioning ways in which she can possibly make it through another day.

And then in her grief, she sees the cracks appear; fractures in the things that seemed certain. 

She’s leaning over the counter in her shop, absentmindedly sorting through stacks of blank vellum, different thickness for different ink absorption, different lengths of scroll, toughness, grain. She sorts and takes more care than most shinobi will deign to think of. But distraction is the name of the game.

So when the door opens and she feels his undeniable chakra pressure enter the store, she conjures a smile and meets his gaze.

“Hello Sasuke-san”, her voice is a threadbare chirp, but he doesn’t seem to notice, just walks steadily towards her and pulls up his sheathed katana, laying it gently on the counter, careful of her piles of paper.

“I need a new tsuba, this one is cracked”, his voice is smooth, and he looks her straight in the eyes, like he still has something to prove, that haunting spectre of defection still dogging his steps.

“That’s fine, any preferences? I can make it exactly the same or change the size and shape to compensate for your larger hands?”, she glances up to confirm her suspicions that this sword hasn’t been re-smithed or altered since he acquired it in his teen years. 

He watches her steadily, and then nods, observing her as she rifles through a drawer under the till, until she finds a tape measure, she deftly unwinds a small length as she walks around to meet Sasuke, holding one hand palm up in request.

He mimicks her action, resting his dominant hand palm up for her inspection. He towers over her, his hands large and pale compared to her fine-boned tanned ones. But apart from the sword wielding calluses and old burn scars, his hands are smooth (like Nejis, don’t cry, don’t cry), and hers are rough, covered in scars old and new. She takes the measure and notes the length and width of his hand the guard will have to cover, she has him make a fist and measures the diameter, then just to check her maths is right (it always is, but something has come loose and she’s feeling a bit daring), she asks him to grip her wrist.

He raises one thin eyebrow, questioning why.

“To see how far your fingers overlap, my wrist is a bit larger than the tsuka of course, but it’s a handy visualisation”, she makes a show of being nonchalant, and his lips quirk as he brings his hand to grip her wrist at its thinnest point.

His grip is firm, his hand warm and dry, and Tenten observes the way his ivory skin looks against hers, just for a split second she lets herself fantasize,

This is the hand without his wedding ring after-all.

“harder”, she watches his grip increase, it starts to hurt, she doesn’t risk looking up at his face, doesn’t want to know what he thinks of her.

(she suspects its something along the lines of desperate),

She moves her arm away and he lets go, and she will later wonder if he lingered or if she just wanted him to.

“I’ll have it all done by the end of the week,” she scribbles down the measurements she took and expects to hear the sound of the door closing behind him, but when she looks up he is still there, watching her. 

Tenten meets his gaze, ready to hear him change his mind, take his sword elsewhere, where the weapons smiths aren’t sad, lonely women who manhandle their customers. She preps herself for that, she’s had it coming for a few years now, the distance between them all stretches like a divide in the earth. 

And she’s stranded on the other side, rent and rendered by blade.

Instead though, Sasuke merely gives her a nod,

“Friday then”, and leaves.

______________________________________

She makes it back to her apartment in the wee hours of the morning, stopping in her kitchenette to gulp down about a litre of water, she’s dead on her feet but stumbles her way into the small bathroom.  
Hissing at her own stupidity for turning the lights on, she opts to shower in the dark, feeling her blood soaked and skin-tight top peel away from her body.  
She rinses it off, the water as hot as she can stand, she scrubs her hands, under her nails where the gore seeped through her gloves and caked dry. She stands and debates with herself whether it’s worth crawling into bed for three hours or pushing through until she has to open up shop. 

Fuck it, she needs the sleep, needs to settle back into her human skin, the face and body that isn’t just a killing machine, but needs to smile and not scare people with the black hollows that have become her eyes and the unnatural stillness that speaks of absolute efficiency of movement.  
She dries herself off and pads naked into her bedroom, flopping face-first onto the futon, passing out almost instantly.

_______________________

When she wakes it’s with a violent jolt, and a muffled scream into her pillow. She saw the wild whites of the eyes she closed forever, desperate hands struggling to pressurise their own wounds, and all of them so accusing. Rolling onto her back and blinking wearily in the dusty morning light she can’t muster the sympathy for them or herself, she simply blinks herself tiredly awake and begins her hobbled morning routine.

Her apartment is blissful silence, and she chooses a simple short-sleeved white blouse and maroon shorts for the day, she’s always shutting early on Fridays, and that will give her time to find a bar somewhere and write up her mission report while the suns still out.  
Her slim fingers move easily to coil the thick ropes of her hair into her usual buns, absentmindedly she moves into her lounge, shortened senbon that she uses as hair sticks set between her teeth, until she spots her ANBU mask lying where she left it on the counter. Arms dropping heavy to their sides, she looks at the porcelain face of the hawk (that would have been Neji’s had he chosen it, had he lived), and decides to yank her hair painfully down, twisting the shining mass into a single loose bun, she stalks out of her apartment and walks the four blocks to her shop without seeing a soul.

_________________________

When a familiar weight settles over her, followed by the tinkling of the bell hanging above the door, Tenten knows it’s Sasuke, even if it weren’t for the chakra, there is a certain pressure in the air that surrounds the lightening user. She looks up from her lunch of sesame dumplings, mouth full and motions for him to come closer with her chopsticks, she slides off her stool and wanders into the back room, easily finding his blade amongst the organised chaos of her workshop, she feels something like nervousness in presenting it to him. She knows her work is flawless, but he is one of the greatest shinobi of their time, and she can’t help but feel some of her old vigour come back at the thought of him wielding her work.

He is standing still and measured, waiting for her to return and despite the quickness of the movement, she sees the way his eyes trace up the muscled length of her legs. Ah yes, that old chestnut. She supposes if he had a type, she might be it. She is lithe and toned, the only kunoichi of their group still on the active mission roster, in fact, she is given more assignments now than ever. She hasn’t become soft and lush with motherhood; her chest is still small, her stomach tight, her body as much a tool as anything in her store. Unlike Sakura who has blossomed into adulthood, body warm and fertile and giving, at 28 Tentens body takes and suffers the punishment of brutal training. 

She hides her smile and slithers onto her seat, laying the wrapped sword between them.

_______________________

“Do you want to test it out?”, she’s aiming for breezy but it’s possible it came out as choked as she feels. She scans his face, bracing for rejection. He’s holding the blade, scanning its newly polished length with a critical eye.

“Not many people use katana as a primary weapon, even the other ANBU don’t really have a taste for it.”

Sasuke looks down at the newly wrapped hilt, the ito black and red silk, she had guessed his preference. 

Her heart feels too big for her chest, her blood slides inside, and part of her wants him to deny her. (Like he never did, despite the difference in power between them)

“Sure, Uchiha compound tomorrow”, he met her eyes with a spark of challenge, a young prodigy with something to prove (the ghosts of children who grew up too fast).

She nods and grins, the expression coming easily even after all this time.

He settles up, to her embarrassment he leaves a generous tip before vanishing in a puff of scentless smoke. Tenten finishes her cold dumplings and fights the insidious voice inside that tells her that this is not going to end well.


	2. This far but no further

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenten feels like the only woman in the world, Sasuke is the dutiful husband, and together they teethe from bloodied gums.  
> (some dubious consent in this chapter, please be aware)

Her heart is transmuted into stone, into the heavy burden that now fills her chest, every breath a weight on her ribs, and with every day the molten tumult inside her core rises up in igneous waves that cool and bury any remaining softness within her. And one day, she muses, she will be made entirely metal, untouchable and enshrined in her own defences. A perfect divination, isn’t that right Neji? Each day we die a little more.

Tenten waits outside Naruto’s office to be called in, her mission, although not particularly difficult was unusual for her, and quite outside her usual skillset. She leans against the wall and attempts to shift her weight from foot to foot, easing the stiffness in her bruised hips. Noting with distaste the grime caked under her nails, she stuffs her hands into her pockets and tips her head back against the wall, the pain of impact grimly satisfying.

The door finally opens, Kakashi strolling causally into the hallway, already reaching for his pervy book, walking past Tenten.  
“You’re up”, his eye crinkles with a smile under the mask, until he stops, scanning her bedraggled appearance, hastily removed makeup, blood welling up under the skin of her throat and around her eye socket, he pauses, and although she isn’t too experienced with the copy-nin, she can smell a half-baked fatherly lecture of concern a mile off, so she gives him a tight nod and pushes off the wall into the Hokages office before he can start.

The ionic bonding of her heart, little by little she will become metal.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Finally clean, finally rid of the stench of that man on her, in her. She sits dripping on her futon, hair twisted up into a towel, and gives her body a quick once over. All things that will heal, the bruises on her thighs will fade, but she wonders if that will be the end of it. Her first kill had stayed with her for a long time, and this, she thinks, was a death of another sort. Naruto had certainly behaved as if somebody had died, looking at her with watery gaze as she de-briefed him and handed in her report, she supposes the young ninja hadn’t imagined sending his classmates into glorified prostitution when he fought tooth and claw to be Hokage. 

Instead of sleeping, Tenten gets dressed hurriedly and flees her apartment, suddenly too filled with manic energy to rest, she considers heading to a bar, but the idea of watching people sloppily hit on each other, or god forbid, hit on her makes her feel ill. Pausing by her shop, she picks up her katana, straps it to her back and darts towards the Uchiha compound.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It is Sakura who greets her in the entrance way of the main house, she is radiant, her soft pink hair practically glowing in the afternoon light, and Tenten feels something akin to shame coil cold in her belly.

“Tenten-chan! Its been so long, come in, come in!”, she gestures inside vaguely, already turning and shouting down the hall for her daughter to come see ‘Aunty Tenten’, although the older girl has only met the young Sarada a handful of times. TenTen slips easily into a seat and watches as Sakura clears away stacks of paperwork from the table, a pink flurry as she chats about work and makes tea and wonders aloud just where her daughter has got to, Tenten politely nods and tries not to feel like an intruder.

But when it comes to just what exactly she is doing here, and she motions to her sheathed blade with one hand, and Sasukes name falls from her lips, she sees a glimmer of surprize in green eyes.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He holds the blade to her ribs, just as she settles her blade at his groin. They both drip sweat, hair plastered to their necks, and breath coming in rough pants. Tenten waits for him to lower his sword, and watches as he straightens, re-sheathing his blade and offering her a hand.   
She shakes her head, and rolls to her feet, his hand lingers in the air before dropping tiredly to his side.

“I didn’t think you’d take me up on this,” Sasuke wipes down his blade with practised familiarity, Tenten tugs at her shirt collar, trying to tempt some cool air against her sweat dampened chest.  
“I almost didn’t, I got home from a mission and needed to burn off the adrenaline,” she swiftly sheaths her own sword and moves to pick up her discarded jacket, he makes a low hum of understanding (he knows how it feels, to be full of fire and unable to stop burning), 

“plus, I wanted to see how that new hand guard is holding up”, she smiles, and its genuine for the first time that day.

His eyes are dark, and the way the flick quickly to her bruised neck, and her marked midriff as she raises her arms to put on her jacket, tells her that he knows. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

That night Tenten lies awake in bed, willing her heart to slow but unable to shake the memory of bodies on top of her; the target that brutally fitted into the cradle of her hips, and Sasuke, when he moved past her as she twirled out of his blades reach, her back sliding across the heat of his powerful body. She isn’t familiar enough with his face to read him (dark eyes, one swirling mandala of the sharingan, nothing like the pale moon of the white gaze she craved), but she thinks she saw relief, or maybe release as he fought her. Something in him soothed by the familiarity of battle.  
His path although winding, was now set; a living legend, teaching clan techniques to his growing family, honing the secrets of the sharingan, and being the wayward son no more.  
Tenten isn’t sure if she desperately envies his life or despises it. She has no ties, save Lee who is now a father with his own genin team to care for. Gai is gone, Neji is gone, and any hope she had once secretly fostered of being a part of a white-eyed family has vanished. 

She stares up at her grimy ceiling in the dark and feels tears sting at her eyes. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Sasuke rolls off his wife, sated and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, he settles beside her, wordlessly handing her a pillow to prop up her hips. Her breathing is slowing as she wiggles into a comfortable position, her pelvis elevated in the hopes of something taking root. They have been trying for another child since soon after Sarada was born, partially out of wanting her to have siblings to play with and partially from the unspoken between them. To be an endling is a heavy burden, and Sakura who has always felt inferior wants desperately to fulfil the only real thing Sasuke has ever asked of her. The continuation of his blood, his clan. It all seems so archaic, yet here they are, drinking fertility teas and tisanes and watching the cycle of the luna month like hawks.  
They both watch the shadows on the ceiling in silence until at last,

“Do you think she loved Neji?” Sakuras whispered voice is sad, and filled with something like pity, Sasuke doesn’t know enough about either of them to make that leap, but he knows a rolling stone when he sees one.

“Tenten is a dangerous woman” Sasuke doesn’t doubt what he saw in her eyes as they trained, as he forced himself to move faster, harder just to dodge her attacks. There was a lethal edge to her movements despite sparring etiquette, despite the lightness of her smile.

Her eyes were bottomless with desire.


	3. A view from the edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She quivers, she shakes, she struggles to hold herself back, even under the weight of their eyes.

Tenten pretends to look concerned 

Tenten pretends to look interested 

Tenten pretends, until her face aches, and she must consciously keep her hands folded neatly in her lap, not fiddling with the senbon tucked into her sleeve or the whip coiled around her waist, hidden under her crisp starched obi. She looks at the target with pseudo-sympathetic eyes and mostly just admires the way Shikamaru has the skill to negotiate such complex trade deals with only a day’s preparation. Her role in this mission is small, she acts as Shikamarus wife, she speaks very little, but in reality, she is the close combat specialist waiting until the plan falls to shit and Shikamaru needs a swift out. At least she can sip her bitter tea and let her mind wander, while the conversation swirls hazily around her.

She had hoped to one day sit at Nejis side like this, protecting his blind spot, a silent pillar of support, his partner in all things. 

Oh, she re-schools her features, something horrible was about to seep through.

As Shikamaru gives a final nod and rises to leave, Tenten discretely makes the symbol of the snake with one hand and remains tidily on the tatami. Shikamaru nods his thanks to their host and leaves the small room. The target looks confused as to why she has stayed behind, she slides one foot gracefully forward, and in one swift movement lunges, slicing his throat with a hidden kunai. The arterial spray hits the roof and walls but miraculously not her, she is getting better at judging the angles of pressurised fluid dynamics. She wipes her blade on the businessman’s trousers and disappears.

“I knew that would happen, what a pain”, Shikamaru sits slouched against the trunk of a thick tree as Tenten quickly changes back into her standard traveling clothing. “A days worth of negotiations wasted on a decoy” he seems genuinely put out and Tenten can’t help but murmur a condolence.  
She had the easy part of that job after all. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And then the unexpected comes.

A number of rogue ninja are on their tails, huge salivating tigers crashing through the trees behind them. Turns out the drug cartel doesn’t appreciate even mid-level goons being disposed of. Good help is hard to come by Tenten supposes to herself.

Shikamaru is not smiling at the irony, he is calculating their chance of escape, of staying to fight and making it out alive, he’s thinking and running and keeping the sounds of dripping jaws the size of his head firmly out of his mind. 

Tenten uses her momentum to swing up and propel herself towards the nearest striped maw, ramming a tanto as hard as she can through the roof of the reeking beasts mouth, this time blood does cover her, hot and thick it coats her hands and she struggles to pull her blade out as more of the slinky black and orange beasts come for her.

Re-joining Shikamaru in the canopy and scrambling upwards onto two towering emergent pines, the muscled weight of the tigers meaning they should be safe up here, if exposed.  
“They aren’t summons, they are nin-trained”, Tenten pants and seals away her filthy tanto, exchanging it for a machete. 

“Figures”, Shikamaru scratches the back of his head, “means there likely aren’t that many, we could probably take them, formation 5?” 

Tenten nods and smiles a little at having the foresight to set traps on their route in case of pursuit. 

Gai sensei did always praise her for being prepared.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Somehow Tenten thinks, she has been set up. Caught like a rabbit in the headlights as both Sakura and Ino descend upon her.

She hikes her grocery bag up higher on her hip, glad her bottle of gin is at the bottom hidden under the far more socially acceptable vegetables.

They drag her to the Yamanaka flowershop, flipping the sign to display ‘closed’ and herding her into a chair with a steaming cup of raspberry leaf tea in hand Tenten is subjected to a frightening display of Inos interrogation abilities.

So, she has been on back to back missions? So she’s been injured and not stopped by the hospital to be checked over (Sakura nods emphatically), she killed a man and was perused by man eating tigers and seemed to enjoy it.

(Fucking Nara, genius should mind his own business)

Does she have a death wish? Just where has she been all this time?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tenten finally makes it home, her greens slightly wilted and her spirits much more so. She pours herself a gin and changes into her sleeping clothes, shuffling her way to the balcony, she sips her drink and feels even more on the outside of it all than ever.

They had noticed; something in her has changed enough that she was beginning to scare them all. Maybe it was in her nature to be a loner, but none of the Konoha twelve had ever enjoyed killing, had ever craved the rush of battle, of her life balancing on a knifes edge like she did.

Pink and blond had probed and prodded all the sensitive underbelly of her, did she miss Neji? Is that what this was all about? Had she loved him? They were sympathetic in their own way, but Tenten, now finally alone in her apartment allowed herself to feel anger. They had tried to tie all her sorrow up into a neat little package, label it and put it away on a shelf so she could re-join them in the world of the living. They didn’t know she had traded away every piece of her flesh. 

That in order to go on without him, she had not just locked away her soul and her heart, but devoured them.

The burn of resentment in her belly eclipses the burn of gin on her tongue. 

_________________________________________________________________

Slipping into their bedroom, Sasuke quickly realises his attempt at stealth is pointless, Sakura is sitting up in bed, reading over medical files, glancing up briefly and giving him a tired smile, she begins to clear her paperwork off his side of the bed while he changes.

“Looks like we both had a bit of a tedious day huh?” Sakura unties her short hair and runs her fingers through the strands, watching Sasuke make his way over and settle under the covers. He has had a long day, and is thinking over a way to decline her potential advances when she suddenly blurts,

“I was right, well Ino and I were right, Tenten was totally in love with Neji”, Sasuke feels something uneasy clench in his belly.

“Sakura, what did you do?” His voice is low and he doesn’t know who exactly in this equation he is worried for. 

And as he lies beside his wife, listening to her explain away her encounter, he remembers seeing Shikamaru and Tenten in the Hokage tower after their mission, the genius looking weary and sporting a few nasty gashes, and the weapons mistress smiling a bloody grin in his direction before vanishing like a phantom.


	4. Phantom Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past, the present, the future, all weaponized against her. Numbness might have been preferable, but its too late for that now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned there is some sexual assault and emotional distress in this chapter, as well as cannon typical violence.

When Tenten dreams that night, it comes to her in vivid technicoloured clarity, no fog of misplaced names or faces, of figures who aren’t quite but surely are. It’s a tumble headfirst into a memory she often takes out and examines like an old photograph, worn at the edges and fading all the time. A day that despite the relentless rot of time and greater hurts, still twists in her belly as the day something went irrevocably wrong.

Her newly minted genin team whips through the forest with a heady rush of adrenaline as their first real pursuers nip at their heels, a four-man crew protecting their blackmarket trading route from the upstart little leaf nin they appear to be (a green spandex blur, a blank eyed boy and a pink shirted girl).

Unused to the push and pull of working as a team, they become separated and she, a sharp toothed little brawler, is easily goaded into losing her teammates somewhere in the goliath trees above.

She trails one particularly foul-mouthed mist nin to the forest floor, caught up in the adrenaline of battle she never realises she is being led further away, ceding her terrain advantage, (open area perfect for her projectiles, the mid canopy still providing her cover) and finding herself desperately out-muscled. Tenten moves to intercept a kunai to the stomach, only to be punched solidly in the temple.

All sense of direction vanishes, as waves of vertigo roll over her. 

It takes nothing for the larger mist-nin to push her down onto her stomach, the sounds of her teammates fighting in the distance reach her through the haze. One of her arms is trapped under her chest awkwardly, the other claws desperately out in front of her for the discarded kunai.

A heavy weight rests on her back, his knee pressed between her shoulder blades,

She is going to die, he is going to slit her throat, or perhaps he will push her face into the mulchy forest floor until she chokes on her own vomit, as the rolling nausea begins to bring bile up onto the back of her tongue.

His weight shifts, and suddenly Tenten feels hands roughly pushing up the hem of her top, and gripping the waistband of her pants, pulling them over her backside, the man grunts in annoyance as he uses a blade to cut away her underwear, nicking the skin at the base of her spine. 

Her flash of confusion is eclipsed by a wave of shame and horror.

One hand fists in her hair, pushing her face harder against the leaves of the forest floor, the other is trying to roughly pull apart her bare thighs.  
She gasps for air, inhaling the smell of earth, clenching her thighs together to keep his hand out.

Then the weight is gone, the nin sent flying as Gai wizzes past in a green blur, but Tenten notices none of it as she rolls onto her back, gasping for air, she struggles to pull her pants back up to her hips with one hand, while simultaneously drawing a kaiken and holding it in a death grip at her chest.

The world is spinning, the canopy above her all deformed and sinister and she tries to turn her head to spit the blood and phlegm from her mouth. Her eyes burn, and her body vibrates with a scream she keeps sealed behind her teeth.

Guy gently but firmly pulls her to her feet, warm hands gripping her forearms, careful to avoid the blade she still held with white-knuckled fingers, his face uncharacteristically serious as he scans her eyes, taking note of her concussion. 

The only sign of his anger was the dead nin, his windpipe visibly crushed.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

What Tenten doesn’t dream but thinks about as she tiredly shuffles through her apartment getting dressed and while disinterestedly poking at her breakfast; is the look on Nejis face afterwards. He had seen everything, his byakugan activated he had watched and fought to reach her. 

Neji had told her, voice already deep despite his youth, already certain of the truth in so many things, that she would be naïve to believe it wouldn’t happen again.   
Face inscrutable, he had asked her to train with him, within the web of his divination.

Tugging on her sandals, she pauses at her door, a sob escaping before she grabs her own chin, nails digging in to keep the wounded animal noises inside. Resolutely she stamps down any trace of him, wishing she were strong enough to let his memory walk with her, she slips outside and takes to the rooftops, toward the hokage tower in the weak morning sun.

Sewn inside, Neji holds her together. 

The cut above her tailbone had healed, nothing but a small silvery scar remining.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sasuke wakes alone in his bed, the quiet chatter of his wife and daughter making breakfast echoes down the hallway.

He struggles to sit up, panting from the feeling of his fingers gripping hard onto rounded hips and brown skin, tracing up the curve of a spine, then a graceful neck, to tangle loosely into two buns.

His hand is gone, but he feels it all the same

**Author's Note:**

> Sakura has actually grown on me over the years now that all I have is head cannon and I ignore the manga and show completely, So I feel a little bad meddling in her shammy marriage. But then I remember this is just a story, and I'm here to play in this sandbox.  
> I have ideas for this if anybody wants another chapter, any feedback is very much welcomed. Thanks for reading.


End file.
